Physical Therapy
by SKH
Summary: a PWP where Nightwing and Oracle exchange therapeutic laying on of hands


PHYSICAL THERAPY 

By SKH 

© April 2001  
Rating: R  
Category: PWP  
Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, cameos by Black Canary, Batman  
Disclaimer: All characters owned by DC Comics. No profit is   
realized from creation of stories based on these characters.  
Note: Follows the events of the fanfic, "Gotchoo" at some point.  
Summary: Exchanging the laying on of hands  
Comments and feedback are welcome to SKHwrite@aol.com

* * *

Part One

// "Oracle, we're on our way in...are you going to make me break the codes or can we just get through, because I *really* need to take a leak!" // 

Oracle—Barbara Gordon—twisted her mouth into a wry grin at the Blüdhaven vigilante's graphic revelation. She keyed a sequence into her computer, deactivating the security measures on her skylight.

\\ "Oh, TMI, Tight-buns! Thanks for that flash!" \\ came Black Canary's transmission.

// "I didn't flash her, Oracle, I swear..." // Oracle heard Nightwing's laughing reply.

"Kids! You're clear to enter through the skylight. Step on it — you've got thirty seconds before the grid goes up again," Oracle ordered.

// "Me first, me first!" // the young hero shouted in mock desperation.

\\ "Fine by me, Nightwing, that gives me another great butt-shot to admire!" \\ Canary retorted.

Barbara sighed and smiled. Independently, her two operatives could raise her blood pressure by 10 points, but in tandem they were a brain aneurysm waiting to happen. Barbara spun her wheelchair around to face the doorway into her control room.

Black Canary — Dinah Lance — sashayed through the door holding out two objects to Oracle. "The love of your life ran down the hall to the `Bat-room!' Here's the data CD and the digicam. Lots of nice incriminating evidence here...." Dinah placed the disk and tiny digital camera in Oracle's hands.

Barbara wheeled back around and inserted the CD into one of the computers at her workstation, then wired the camera to download its image files onto her server. She looked at the CD's data files that were displayed on the monitor before her, and smiled. "This is good stuff, Dinah, great job. WayneTech's little techno-mole has his free days numbered. Nobody messes with my favorite toy maker and gets away with it! It looks like our man's controllers are in New Delhi...when can you leave?" 

Barbara turned away from the monitor to look at Black Canary for a moment, then her gaze returned to the display. She continued to read over the data files and documents that linked an unscrupulous WayneTech engineer with a corporate espionage faction in India responsible for theft of proprietary intellectual properties worldwide. Oracle had been hunting the faction's planted moles for some time, and had scored big-time when one made the mistake of tripping one of her encoded security strings at WayneTech. Oracle's fingers flew over the keyboard, entering a sidebar of commands.

"Yeah. When can you leave, BC?" Nightwing's voice boomed through the room, startling the two women.

"Damn! Stop sneaking up on me, Tight-buns!" Dinah gasped as she grabbed Barbara's shoulders to steady herself.

"*Eeyow*, Dinah, that *hurts!*" Barbara exclaimed, putting her hands on the tops of her shoulders. She had been working so intensely on this case — had spent what seemed like days at her workstation — and that had resulted in painful muscular tension in her neck, shoulders and upper back. Barbara shook herself loose from Black Canary's hands and rotated her shoulders, trying to work out the kinks.

"You okay, Babs?" Nightwing asked, concerned at her yelp of pain.

"Yeah, I've just been working so much and I'm all bunched up — I'll be fine." Barbara turned and issued Black Canary her traveling orders. "There's an e-ticket for you at the airport, Dinah, at British Air, you're going to New Delhi tonight, in..." she glanced at the international time display on one of several monitors, "...oh, hour and a half. You'd better scoot. Thanks for the great work tonight."

The two friends exchanged a brief hug. On her way past Nightwing, Black Canary swatted him on his behind. "Good backup tonight, Tight-buns. Take care of my boss!" She gave an exaggerated wink at her two companions and slipped out of the control room.

"She didn't really need an escort, you know, Dick." Barbara turned back to the monitors to continue cursoring though the onscreen data files, her jaw clenched tightly.

"Oh really? She tripped an alarm, Babs. Good thing I was already in the neighborhood when it relayed to me. Bruce must not be back from Europe yet, or you would have had some 'splainin' to do,' sending an operative into WayneTech," Nightwing quipped. He stood and observed her, his arms crossed nonchalantly.

"I think Batman will be mildly pleased that I've ID'd one of the New Delhi *techno-moles*. I don't have anything to prove it yet, but we're working on the hunch that this operation may somehow link to Ra's al Ghul. Dinah may uncover that. And if that's the case, Batman will join her." Barbara glibly explained. "I always thought those two needed a night out on the town, even if the town is in India."

"This case is a blind date? You're setting Bruce and Dinah up on a danger-filled blind date? That's... that's just... sheer genius, Babs," Nightwing beamed. "But the case is legit, right?"

"Oh, it's definitely on the level, former Boy Wonder. And things will undoubtedly get a little intense — the case, not Canary and the Bat, although that would be nice, too." Babs turned and smiled smugly at Nightwing. She winced slightly as her head turned, then brought her hand to the base of her neck and rubbed. 

"Ow, *that* wasn't fun," she complained.

Nightwing removed his mask and gauntlets and approached her. "Sooo...why don't you shut down, Babs, and we can watch the DVD I brought — we did say we were going to watch a movie tonight," Dick suggested cheerfully. "We can break out that stash of mint chocolate chip ice cream you've got in the freezer," he coaxed, placing his hands carefully on her tense shoulders.

Babs jumped and hissed a gasp of air as Dick's experienced fingers found some of the knots that were a source of her physical irritation. Dick lightly massaged Babs' shoulders and neck, carefully triaging the extent of painful tension.

"No offense, gorgeous, but you're a wreck!" he teased gently, feeling her relax slightly under the effect of the massage.

"I—*ow*—I've just...mmm...been at this for a while, Dick. I haven't stopped for...oh, that's — right there — much more that bathroom breaks over the past twenty-four hours." She leaned into his hands; her head fell back against his abdomen.

"Then I'd say it's definitely time to take a break. But you could really use a good massage a lot more than "The Gladiator." Dick moved his thumbs from the tops of her shoulders down her upper back to the knots he knew were there, on the inside of her shoulder blades.

"More than Russell Crowe? And I thought you *knew* me, Twenty-something Wonder — Oww! — that *hurts*..." she moaned, tensing all over as he attempted to smooth out her cramped muscles.

Dick paused in his ministrations and bent to whisper next to her ear. "Upload the files to the Batcave, then put your data center on `auto-pilot' while I go set up the table in your gym." He punctuated his orders with a soft kiss at the base of her neck.

Before Babs could reply, his hands had left her shoulders and Dick disappeared from the room. Barbara smiled, her face warm. She keyed a series of commands and withdrew from the console. When she reached the gym, Dick had the portable massage table out and assembled, and was arranging sheets and towels on it. The lights in the room were dialed low, and he'd lit some candles.

"Nice ambiance, Short Pants, you going for a mood?" she quizzed.

"I just want you to relax, Babs. You all set? This will take an hour or so, maybe...do you need to take care of anything first?" he asked, hinting at `calls of nature.'

"Oh, that's not a bad idea, now that you mention it," she grinned, "...be right back." She wheeled out of the room toward the bathroom.

"Bring back that bottle of scented oil that's in the cabinet, I'm gonna get a couple of bottles of water from the fridge!" Dick chirped, passing Babs in the hallway.

"How'd you know..." she started.

"I peek!" came his reply as he rounded a corner, headed for the kitchen.

They reassembled moments later back in the gym. Dick lifted Babs out of the wheelchair and sat her down on the massage table, giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead as he did so. He lifted each of her feet in turn, slipping her shoes off and placing them on the seat of the chair. Then he removed her socks. Babs watch him quietly as he lifted her legs, extended them to hold her feet against his chest, he hands holding them securely.

"Your tootsies are cold, Babs, I'll have to take care of that." Dick swung Barbara's extended legs around and settled them on the table, outstretched before her. He stepped back, ready to order her to disrobe, and saw the hesitation on her face. Not wishing to aggravate her self-consciousness, he offered a suggestion. "Why don't you get as comfy as you want here, and I'll go get your boom box and some tunes. Here's your top sheet. You should probably go face down to start with, okay?" Dick flashed a heart-melting smile and bounded out of the room.

Babs twisted around to watch him leave the room. `It's just a massage, Babs, don't get freaked out,' Babs thought to herself Turning back around, she puffed a short sigh, then pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it into the chair on top of her shoes. She hooked her thumbs into her waistband and pushed the stretch-leggings she wore down to just below her hip bones, then supported herself with first one hand, and then the other, as she rocked to either side to slip the leggings over her hips and off her bottom. Babs quickly extracted her long legs from the leggings and tossed that garment to the side as well. In just her bra and panties, she spread the top sheet over her legs, rolled to her tummy and tugged the sheet up to the middle of her back. She lay with her head resting on her folded arms.

Dick called to her from the hallway outside her gym. "Are you indecent yet, Babs?" 

Barbara heard the tease in his voice and smiled in spite of her sudden feeling of shyness. "Not as indecent as your dreams, former Boy Wonder," she called back with false bravado.

Dick reentered the room, chuckling at her remark. "I dunno, Babs, have I told you about my dreams lately?"

Dick plugged the boom box into an outlet close to the table. He inserted three CDs into the disc player and touched the play button. Soft, ethereal sounds issued from the small stereo, celestial mood music he'd found among her collection of music. Dick crossed the room to turn the overhead lights completely down, leaving them cast only in the flickering candlelight.

Babs closed her eyes and exhaled the breath she'd held since Dick walked back into the room. She felt his fingers touch her head and opened her eyes. She stirred, but he hushed her.

"I'm just going to get your hair out of the way, Babs, relax," he said quietly. Dick combed her hair forward with his fingers, away from her neck, pulling it into a ponytail at the top of her head. He secured it with a large, fabric covered elastic band, looping the band three times, then tugging the ponytail to make sure it wasn't too tight or loose. "There you go, gorgeous,now your hair won't get all icky with oil."

Babs heard a rustling noise and looked up to see Dick pulling the tight top of his suit over his head, baring his upper body. She silently drew her breath at the sight of his candlelit form — smooth, defined, and muscled to masculine perfection. His gymnast's torso was broad at the shoulders compared to his slender waist and hips. His arms — her favorite feature, actually — were perfectly developed: not hulking, but well formed and articulately cut. Her eyes moved to his defined chest, then down his perfect six-pack abdominal muscles. Dick was not a hirsute man — his chest was smooth and his body hair didn't really begin until that line that started just below his belly button...

Babs glanced up to see Dick smiling at her. She wrinkled her nose at him in a mock scowl, then dropped her head to her arms again and closed her eyes.

"Made ya look, Babs!" Dick taunted affably, as he placed a tube-shaped pillow under her ankles to support them, and then placed a light blanket over the sheet to cover her legs, for additional warmth. He walked back toward the head of the table, stopping to hook his pinky under the back of her bra, pulling it up a bit and letting it snap back in place. "You've got to lose this, love. It's in the way."

A scarce moment of hesitation and Babs replied, "Okay, want me to...?"

"Nah, I've got it." Dick's fingers found the clasp and nimbly released it. He helped Babs slide her arms out of the straps and then gently pulled the bra away from her body, tossing it into the nearby chair with the rest of her clothing. "Okay, Babs, face in the hole." Dick ordered. Babs adjusted herself so her face rested on an extension of the table, a padded, open face rest in the shape of a circle, designed to support her head while allowing her to breathe. Dick had folded a small towel to further cushion her face on the padded support. Babs lay with her arms at her sides, and tried to relax.

Dick pulled the sheet down to Barbara's hips. He moved to stand at the head of the table and poured the scented oil into his hands and rubbed them to warm the oil. He placed his hands at her shoulders and moved them down her back, along both sides of her spine, to just below her waist, then back again, sensing the location of the knots in her muscles.

As Dick's hands found and worked out each knot, Babs made a conscious effort to relax her aching muscles and to breathe oxygen into them. She moaned faintly as he gently manipulated each individual trouble area: her shoulder blades, the base of her neck, and the base of her skull.

Eventually Dick made his way down to Barbara's lower back. He took great care here and worked slowly, using the full flat of his hands, bringing warmth to the slender span where waist moved toward hips.

Babs was silent as he worked there. She disengaged her thoughts from the anxiety of knowing he touched her surgical scars, and surrendered her trust into those strong, confident hands.

Dick moved the sheet lower, to just below her buttocks. He smiled to himself, seeing she'd left her panties on. He bent forward and kissed her spine between her shoulder blades, while slipping the panties down below her hips, exposing more of her creamy, pale skin. He wanted access to the base of her spine, and the crucial cluster of nerves there.

Babs let herself drift with the peaceful meditation music, as Dick's touched moved in and out of the nebulous barrier of her sensation. She was breathing through her mouth now. Her nose had become stuffed up from the combination of lying face down and the flood of pain-erasing endorphins pouring into her bloodstream.

Dick worked firmly and conscientiously, not missing a pressure point or nerve bundle. He had learned this craft literally at the hands of Alfred Pennyworth, the master of "making everything all right." Alfred had healed and trained Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne — the Batman — over the years.

Dick moved his hands tenderly down to Barbara's unfeeling legs. First, he pulled her panties back up over her bottom, giving her a little pat, not entirely sure she could feel it. Then he made long strokes down her hamstrings, working deeply to stimulate blood circulation. Down the hamstrings, he pushed, and then pulled back up the inside and outside of her thighs. Dick massaged her calf muscles smoothly and firmly. His skillful hands judged the muscle's tone and density with tender scrutiny. How much has been lost? How much still remained? Not as much, he noted sadly, as before the bullet, but that was to be expected. His hands could tell — as if he didn't already know — that Babs worked damned hard to keep from losing any more muscle than she had to. He gave a silent prayer of thanks, for her life, for her unparalleled stubbornness and determination. He felt he couldn't love her more than at that moment. He hoped she knew.

Dick then lifted Barbara's feet to massage the reflex and pressure points that linked to other parts of her body, such as her internal organs. He finished off by carefully massaging each of her toes, mentally reciting the childhood "this little piggy" poem with a smile on his face. Laying her feet down again, he covered her body with the sheet and moved to the head of the table again.

"Ready to turn over, Babs?" he asked, keeping his voice low and soft, sustaining the quiet mood.

"Mmm...Uhn-huhn — God, I cad brede troo by doze, Dick..." Babs lifted herself up on her elbows and rubbed her face, trying to make her sinuses open up again. "*Skynnxx...*" she inhaled. Not much air went through.

"Here, take a tissue," Dick chuckled, holding out a box of facial tissues. Babs dutifully plucked two from the box, then blew her nose, achieving some relief. "Thirsty? Want a drink of water?" He cracked open a bottle of water and held it out, taking the used tissues out of her hand.

"Oh. Sure, thanks." Babs took a sip from the water bottle, watching Dick as he moved to toss the tissue into a nearby wastebasket. It could have just been that she was lying eye-level to his crotch, but that's where her slightly blurred gaze landed. Was he affected by this massage? Was he 'sporting' just a bit? It could have looked that way because, without her eyeglasses, her vision wasn't exactly 20-20. Or it could have just been the spandex leggings he wore — they wouldn't be able to disguise his arousal for long. She closed her eyes, took a long drink of the cool water, and smiled.

Dick hadn't noticed her cruising his package, although he noticed the smile and commented on it. "You must be feeling less pain, that's an awfully sweet smile you're wearing," and he flashed a toothy one of his own at her.

"Mmm-hmmm." Her smile grew larger. 'Clueless Wonder,' she thought.

Dick stood beside the table. "Ready to go on? Let's get you flipped over." He held the sheet up so she could roll over, still modestly shielded. She capped her water bottle and rolled toward him, adjusting her body to lie flat on her back. Dick draped the sheet over her again. He moved the tube-shaped pillow up under her knees now, to keep her lower back relaxed and aligned. He straightened her legs and spread the blanket over her lower legs again. He removed the face rest attachment from the head of the table to give himself easier access to her head, neck, and shoulders.

Pulling a stool over to the table, Dick sat behind Babs' head and brushed a lock of hair from her face. He gave her a light kiss on the forehead as a preamble to what he needed to ask next. "Babs, I'll need to work on your ribs and chest muscles — the connective tissues between the ribs and sternum. You can get pretty crunched sitting at the computer for hours, and we'll need to un-collapse your rib cage. Is that going to be okay with you?" 

He meant that it would be necessary to massage her bare torso, and he didn't want her to be uncomfortable with it. *He*didn't want to feel uncomfortable with it, either, but it *was* in the interest of therapy. He reminded himself of that detail, to reinforce the detachment he needed to keep.

Babs paused for a moment, then extended her long neck to look back into his darkened blue eyes. "Okay. I can handle it if you can... *Dick*." She grinned as she emphasized his name. She saw him glance down at his lap, and even in the candlelight she saw him blush.

"Yeah. Well. I'm only human, Babs, I'm not perfect," he abashedly conceded.

"That's your opinion, love." She closed her eyes and relaxed, holding the water bottle out for him to take out of her hand.

He did, and set it aside. Before proceeding, he landed a short, soft kiss on her lips, and whispered, "I do love you, you know."

Babs kept her eyes closed and smiled. "I know."

That established, Dick went to work on her neck and shoulders, this time from a different angle. Still tense, still abundant with painful knots, Babs winced and vocalized through the pain. Dick tenderly pressed down into the muscles inside the collarbone, massaging the ropes of twisted tension. He saw a tear escape her closed eye to roll down toward her ear. He quickly leaned in to kiss away the errant tear before it could drop into her ear. He tasted the salt, and laid another soft kiss on her cheekbone before continuing.

Dick stood to work on her arms. He gave sweeping rubs along the long muscles, pushing the sweep from her arm down toward her pectoral muscle. The sheet was still there, and he worked around it for a while. Moving down to the connective tissues of her elbow, he smoothed the bunched tendons, eliciting hisses of discomfort from his patient.

Down the forearm he worked, to her wrist. He took his time at her wrist, her dominant hand, her mouse hand. He shook the wrist in a quick downward snap to realign the tiny bones, smoothing what he knew had to be an uncomfortable subluxation. He massaged her hand firmly, giving careful attention to heel, palm and each finger. Finished with the one hand, he kissed the inside of her palm before moving on to duplicate his actions on the opposite arm and hand.

Babs smiled at the palm kiss. She was drifting again, listening to the second CD that played, Native American flute music. So serene. Babs breathed deeply, her sinuses reopened now. She felt the sheet move away from her chest, pulled down to below her belly button. A small shiver went through her as the cooler air of the room kissed her exposed skin. She felt her nipples harden, and tried not to let it worry her. She could do this. She trusted Dick Grayson with her life, she was trusting him with her love, and could trust him with her body, too.

Dick paused to pour more of the scented oil into his hands. He needed just a moment to regroup after moving the sheet away from her. His breath caught - inaudibly, thank goodness — and it felt as if his heart skipped a few beats. `Please, let me get a grip on myself!' he thought. Babs was so beautiful. Perfect, absolutely perfect. Perfect shape, size, color... He had to admit to being a breast-man, as `un-PC' as it sounded. Hey, he was still a guy, and this was the woman he loved most in the world. He recalled song lyrics he'd heard before, "...I held my breath. My God. My girl..." and that was exactly how he felt at that moment.

"Dick, is everything all right?" Babs asked, puzzled that he was taking so long to continue.

"Yeah, sure." His voice cracked in an adolescent break, revealing how flustered he felt. "Shit." He hissed under his breath.`Busted! *Doh*— now I'm making bad puns on myself!'

Barbara opened her eyes, saw the look on his face, and burst out laughing.

That compounded the situation for Dick, who strained to regain his composure. Her laughter caused...the nicest jiggle.

"Okay, Babs, cool it."

She continued to laugh.

"Babs, I admit, you're beautiful, you're gonna have *some* kind of effect on me. But how am I supposed to stay professional and focused when you're...jiggling...and naked..." his words trailed off as he turned away from her and leaned on the edge of the massage table. He searched through every meditation technique he knew to try to quell his increasing arousal. When that failed, he imagined the most unpleasant things he could: a week-old drowning victim, earthquakes, leprosy, car accidents, last year's Knights scores, Blackgate prison, Arkham asylum, Harper's beer farts... Bingo! That's it...that did it.

Barbara's laughter subsided. She sat up and hooked her arms around his waist, laying her cheek between his shoulder blades. "Dick, I told you I could do this if you could. Now c'mon, get a grip and...well, come get a `grip.' Now. Before all this ambient serenity vaporizes."

She kissed his back before she reclined again. Dick turned to look at her and their eyes met. They both broke into peals of laughter. Babs cupped her hands over her breasts as she laughed. "Does this help?" she gasped.

Dick laughed, and bent to kiss her — leaving his own hands on the table. "Not really, but as they say, Babs, it's the thought that counts." His lips closed over hers, and lingered there, as she returned his kiss, gently suckling his lower lip. They parted, their breathing quickening.

"I should probably get back to business, huh?" he whispered, his eyes burning with a steady blue fire.

"Uh-huh. I guess so..." Babs murmured, her own eyes blinked and closed, her only defense against that inviting blue fire.`Like a moth to a flame,' she mused, `I could fly right into those eyes and incinerate.'

"Better hop to it, Short Pants, what am I paying you for, anyway?" she chuckled behind her closed eyes.

Dick stood and moved back behind the head of the massage table and cracked his knuckles in one sharp motion of his hands. "Paying me? Lady, you can't afford my rates!" He chuckled as he dribbled drops of oil over her bare torso. His hands began their attack on the tight muscle fascia of her ribs and sternum, sliding on the cushion of fragrant oil. His fingers pressed firmly against her breastbone, fanning the connective tissue outward to smooth it.

"OW-OW-OW! God, that *hurts*!" Babs wailed. "Sorry, you didn't hear that..." She hated displaying vulnerability, even to Dick. Her computer marathon had taken its toll on her body.

"Breathe though it, Babs, you know the drill. What, have you been *living* on coffee and colas or something? Drink more *water* Babs, your tissues are not very happy — you're grainy. Cut out the caffeine," Dick scolded. He pulled at her arm with one hand while smoothing her ribs with another. Then he made sweeping pushes from the center of her chest outward and down along her ribcage. Babs breathed deeply with every stroke of his hands, pulling oxygen into her lungs and muscles.

"I'll give it up when *you* give it up, Caffeine-and-sugar-Wonder," Babs grumbled between breaths.

"I also drink lots of water *and* I have the good sense to go bellyaching to Alfred when I need this much work, Babs," he retorted.

"Is that why you had to race to my bathroom tonight?" she smiled.

"Mea maxima culpa, beautiful. It was that or piss off the rooftops, and Batman hates it when I do that." Dick grinned mischievously at the thought of the reprimands he'd received — especially in his early years as Robin — for doing just that. He'd seen no harm it at the time, as long as the wind was blowing in the right direction. But for some reason, Batman was mortified by it. Like *he* never had to use the bathroom on patrol. Or did he?

For several minutes Dick worked on this trouble spot before letting her know where he would concentrate the massage next. "That's so much better now, Babs. Much looser. I'd like to work on your abdomen now, are you feeling okay?"

She was boneless again, and lightheaded from endorphins and oxygen. "Mmm, yess. M'okay. An' I promisss, I'll drink more water, Twenny Sumpin' Wundrrr," she murmured drowsily. Dick smiled. He was relieved at her state of relaxation. His heavy concentration on the massage had helped to `relax' him, too.

He stroked his hands into her abdomen with a much lighter touch. He had moved to the side of the table again, to gently pull the tension out of her abdomen in arcing sweeps with the edges of his hands. His fingers then moved in little circles, pressing from her solar plexus in small, concentric motions. His fingers had no choice but to ride over the scars: the bullet wound and surgical incision. His concerned eyes darted to her face — relaxed, her eyes were closed. Thank God. He blinked back tears that threatened him, and breathed through a crest of emotion.

Barbara lay quietly, willing herself to relax and inhale, knowing where his hands worked. `Let it go, Batgirl, let it go,' she told herself. 

What she did not need to tell herself was that Dick was there to catch her when she did. 

So she did. And he did. And she smiled.

The massage lasted another quarter of an hour, ending back at her head, with a delicate massage of facial and scalp muscles. By the time Dick concluded, Babs had slipped into a light doze. He covered her with the sheet and the blanket and quietly left the room.

* * *

Part Two

Babs awoke several minutes later, yawned and stretched.

"Welcome back, dream-girl. Have a nice nap?" Dick smiled at her affectionately from the stool beside the massage table. Babs yawned again, then inhaled deeply and released it. She lay with her hands behind her head, looking up at Dick.

"Thanks. I did." She smiled drowsily at him.

"Good. Feel better?" he asked.

"Ohhh, yesss." She stretched indulgently again. "That was unbelievable — I'll probably be sore tomorrow, though."

Dick stood and scooped Barbara, sheets and all, off the table into his strong, bare arms. He pecked a kiss onto her cheek and grinned, "Can't have that, Babs, good thing we're not finished yet." He strode out of the gym with his precious cargo questioning him in his arms.

"What do you mean `not finished yet,' Grayson? I think I ought to get dres...the bathroom? What are you...?" 

Her words stalled as Dick carried her through the doorway to the bathroom, straight to the large Roman bathtub. He carefully deposited her on the edge of the tub and stood back. The tub was filled with hot, fragrant water, and the Jacuzzi waterjets bubbled gently. Fluffy towels sat on a shelf nearby. So did fresh bottles of cold drinking water.

"You get into the tub, Babs, and I'll be right back." Dick disappeared back out the bathroom door, leaving Babs with the inviting tub. She swished her fingers in the water, testing the temperature. Perfect. Looking back at the door, Babs peeled away the sheets, and using the padded handrails anchored to the tub, slid into the steaming water.

"Ahhh," she sighed, savoring the sensation. Tenderized by the massage, her punished muscles would now become stewed.

"There you go! Good girl!" Dick returned with Babs' wheelchair, upon which lay her robe, the boom box, and the extinguished candles from the gym. He arranged and relit the candles, set up the boom box on the counter top, inserted a new CD, then dimmed the bathroom lights. The soft strains of Sting seeped into the room, adding echo to the singer's voice.

"Dick, this is paradise..." Babs purred. She leaned forward, running her hands down her legs, eyes closed dreamily.

"Z'at so? Okay, you twisted my arm!" he quipped, then skinned out of his remaining garment and stepped into the tub behind her.

"Hey — HEY! What do you think you're doing, Grayson?" Babs squealed, craning her neck around to see Dick's grinning face, as he settled back in the tub, making himself comfortable. His legs extended, on either side of her.

"Saving water, Babs. Bathing communally. It's quite acceptable in many cultures."

"Di-i-i-ck..." Babs drew his name out with a mock-warning tone, her green eyes' suspicion giving way to amusement.

Dick smiled and leaned forward just a bit and whispered theatrically across the tub at her. "Submerged." The in a normal voice, intended to reassure his beloved, "You're safe, Babs. Please, relax and let the hot water soak those muscles. You can lean back against me like I'm your pillow. But I'll get out if you'd prefer — you call the shots." His blue eyes reaffirmed the truth behind his words.

Once again she was pulled into the depths of his eyes — darkened by the dimmed overhead lights, but catching the glow of the candlelight. Babs turned back around, smiling to herself. "Will you wash my hair for me?" she asked him, pulling the elastic band that held her hair up. It fell in a soft, red mass to the top of her shoulders. "Only because I want to keep my muscles nice and relaxed," she bargained coyly.

"I understand," Dick sensibly agreed. "I should let you know I'm also available for leg shaving and toenail painting, and my rates are negotiable," he offered with humble charm. He reached over the side of the tub for a plastic tumbler he'd put there earlier, then filled it with water and poured it over the back of Babs' head, soaking her hair. "Head back and close your eyes."

She complied, and he wet the rest of her hair thoroughly, taking care to keep the water out of her eyes. Dick poured shampoo into his hand and gently massaged her scalp with it.

"Mmm, not bad, Grayson. Maybe I should book a future appointment. I could get used to this," Babs drowsily cooed.

Dick grinned and growled in her ear, "That's the plan, baby, that's the plan!"

He turned the hand-held shower-head on, made sure the water was warm, and then rinsed her hair. Wet, and in the candle's soft light, Barbara's hair glowed like a red sheet of silk over her shoulders. As Babs pushed the water out of her hair, wringing her hands through it, Dick quickly washed and rinsed his own hair. He turned off the spray of water and leaned back in the tub, pulling Babs back to recline against him.

"Okay, Dick, what's next?" she queried, enjoying the feel of him against her skin.

"We wing it from here, gorgeous. That's all I had in my script." He nuzzled her temple, drinking in the mixed fragrances of the scented water, shampoo, and her skin.

"No rub-a-dub-dub?" she pouted languorously.

"I didn't know if you wanted my hands scrubbing all over you, Babs," he teased.

"Your hands have already been all over me, Sherlock."

"But that was therapy. Different mind set. Hard-fought professional detachment..."

"Detached, my ass!"

"I could get attached to your ass!" Dick cheerfully confessed.

Babs rolled over easily in the gravity-suspending water and slid up Dick's body to whisper in his ear. "You can *scrub* my ass, Dicky." Babs hooked her right arm around Dick's neck, holding herself in place against his chest. She kissed his ear. "Whatsamatter, Grayson? You waiting for Christmas, or something?"

He was waiting to see if he'd ever be able to breathe again.

No coherent thought came to his mind, so Dick blindly slapped around the edge of the tub until his hand landed on a washcloth. Further exploration yielded a bar of soap. Babs nibbled on his earlobe as he soaped the cloth. Dick turned his head in the direction of those sharp teeth and lips met lips, inquiring gently. Babs placed her left hand on the side of his face and deepened their kiss. Dick dropped the soap and cloth to put his arms around her.

Babs disengaged her mouth from his. "You drop something, Dicky? You're not scrubbing..."

"...S-scrub...huh?" was all Dick's bloodless brain would allow his mouth to say.

"Maybe you lost the soap." She purred against his mouth. "I'll help you look for it..." and her mouth closed over his again, while her left hand dropped from his face to tickle down his neck and chest. She stopped to roll the hardening bud of his nipple in her fingers, eliciting a low groan from his throat that resonated into their kiss. Babs broke the kiss again. "Oops. That's not the soap, is it?" she breathed.

"Uh-uh," he answered, sliding his left hand to the small of her back and touching her chin with the tips of his right fingers. His eyes sought hers and languidly locked onto them.

Babs smiled her approval of his participation and continued her search for the errant bar of soap. Her left hand trailed down his chest to the rock-hard abdominal muscles, causing him to gasp and shiver. Careful not to trip his hair-trigger tickle-reflex, Babs pressed her palm to his abs and moved it down below the water, halting when her index finger hooked his belly button. She inserted the finger and moved it in a tight, tiny circle.

`I don't think that's it, either," she lamented. Babs licked his chin, feeling the faint roughness of new stubble there.

"N...nope. That's my belly button, Babs. Heh-heh — Belly-Button-Babs," he chuckled, his arousal-impaired brain grasping the silly alliteration. Dick's right hand moved down her throat to the hollow between her collar bones. It toyed there a moment, then slid down to cup her left breast, brushing the pad of this thumb lightly over its berry-ripe tip. His hooded eyes remained locked on hers, looking for protest, and found none. A surge of desire flushed over him and his pulse raced.

Babs smiled. "That's a good start, Dick, but that's not the soap either."

Babs released her finger from Dick's navel and continued down his belly, following that soft line of hair to the real object of her search, and seized it, holding his aroused manhood firmly in her hand, feeling it pulse.

Dick moaned, covering her mouth with his. Dick continued to vocalize low, wordless sounds of pleasure into their kiss, as Babs' hand danced over his iron member. Their tongues played, advancing and retreating, caressing and sucking. Dick's hands revisited Babs' body, teasing and holding.

Babs pulled her mouth away from Dick's, took her hand away from his erection, and grabbed his right wrist, sliding it away from her waist. Her eyes beheld his, and she touched her forehead to his. They closed their eyes and rubbed noses in an old, favorite, comfortable embrace. Babs guided Dick's hand down her body, hesitated for just a moment, then led him between her legs. Dick scarcely drew a breath, so awed by this moment.

"Just press, love, just press your hand against me..." she directed, whispering breathlessly. She pulled herself closer to him, and in return, Dick's left arm drew around her, to hold her tighter.

Her hand returned to his aroused sex, to stroke and squeeze, edging him closer to release. She tightened and released her own abdominal muscles internally, striving to feel what the sympathetic and parasympathetic nerve pathways that ran along her interrupted spine could allow. Her own internal contractions matched the rhythm his body and her busy hand.

Dick buried his face in her neck, tasting and nipping the delicate and sensitive skin from shoulder to ear, growling a low croon against her throat.

Babs intensified her driving movements. Her breath came in small sobs as Dick's mouth sent shivers coursing through her. She arched her long neck back offering more to his hungry mouth. Her own mouth opened as she inhaled a long, ragged gasp of air. Babs dissolved in a long shudder, held tightly against Dick's hard body, as strong waves of pleasure washed over her. Dick thrust into Babs' tightened grip, jetting his release over and over. He laughed a low, soft, joyful peal against her neck. The held each other close as their climax subsided, then they went boneless, their hands withdrawing along each other's bodies through the scented water, to reach for and caress each other's faces. They relaxed, languid and peaceful, in the warm water.

Babs opened her eyes, and, with her head still resting on Dick's shoulder, inspected her water-wrinkled fingers in the candlelight. "Hmm. Pruney."

Dick stirred slightly. "Whaa.."

"My fingers are like prunes, Dick." Babs pulled his hand in front of her eyes. "Yours too, Pruney-Wonder."

"I hope that's not a suggestion that we move. I don' wanna move, Babs, this is sooo niiice," he drawled through a happy smile.

She released his hand and lay still, only moving the fingers of her left hand lightly around the hollow of his throat. She gave a little snicker. "...Like riding a bicycle..." she murmured.

"Huh? That did not feel like riding a bicycle. I've done that and it doesn't come close to what just happened. I feel gooood."

"No, silly. I mean I haven't forgotten how to *do* this. It's not exactly the same — it's different — but parts of me remember what it's supposed to feel like..."

"I know what you mean." Dick opened his eyes and kissed the top of her head. "I love you, Babs. So much," he whispered, tightening their embrace.

Babs hugged him back, just at tightly, and kissed Dick on the chest. "Love you too, Dicky...but the water's getting cool. We should get out of the tub." Babs looked up at Dick and tapped him on the nose with her index finger.

Dick caught that finger in his hand and kissed the tip. "I'm proo-ney, Dick, I'm col-l-d. Gee Babs, and you call *me* a whiner."

Babs pushed herself up to a sitting position. "Well, you *are*, but that's beside the point. The point is..."

"Here's the point, right here, I found it!" Dick gave Babs a toothy grin and a soft pinch on her right nipple.

She laughed and slapped his hand away. "Cut that out, Grayson!"

"What? I can't touch you? Babs, we just had sex — we touched...intimately, and other cool stuff." Dick withdrew his wounded hand and sat up.

"We didn't *really* have sex, Dick, not real sex..." Babs protested, taunting him. She turned around, facing away from him.

"It felt real to me, Babs. What's *your* definition of sex?" Dick affected an Arkansas twang for his offbeat impression: "Ah did not have sex with that woman — Barbara Gordon," he quipped from beneath an accusatory arched eyebrow. Dick drew his legs up carefully from around Babs and rocked forward, preparing to stand. He leaned forward, kissed Babs on the shoulder, and stood up.

Dick stepped out of the tub and reached for the towels for Babs and himself. Barbara's eyes followed him, drinking in the spectacle of his wet nudity — the way the droplets of water tumbled from his shoulders and slid down his spine toward the perfect cleft of his a...

"What the hell is that, Grayson?" Babs demanded. Dick spun around to face her, quickly tucking a towel around his waist, and wearing a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face.

"W-what's what, Babs? Here, get into the towel before you..." he stammered, red-faced."

"That thing on your ass, `Tattooed Wonder'! Give it up now, Short Pants!" Babs lifted herself onto the edge of the big Roman tub and swung her legs around to face him.

Dick tilted his head to one side slightly and gave her a lop-sided grin, instantly struck by the sight of her: naked, wet, all pink and soft and... 

...glaring daggers at him. 

He held out the towel without further hesitation. "Sorry. I was, uh..."

"Take a picture, Grayson, it'll last longer. Now show me that tattoo, if that's what it is. I don't seem to recall your having a bat-shaped birthmark!" Babs scowled, taking the fluffy bath towel from Dick's extended hand and wrapping it around her torso.

"I—wait...how...?" he began, somewhat perplexed.

"Blackgate, Sherlock. Remember? About-face and drop `em!" she ordered.

Dick obediently turned his back on her and un-tucked the towel from his waist. It fell from his hips, giving Babs the view she'd asked for. He crossed his arms, shifted his weight to one hip, and stood, resigned to her inspection.

Babs took her time, if just to irritate Dick. Actually she was enjoying herself.

"God, you must have been completely wasted to do this, Dick. Not that it's a bad tattoo, mind you. It's really clever, nicely executed, and I *love* the location. So this is what that whole deal with Roy Harper was all about?" she asked, sincere in her appreciation of Dick's uncharacteristic act of liberation. She retrieved Dick's towel from the floor and wrapped it around his waist, pushing on his hips to prompt him to turn. She tucked one corner of the towel neatly under its edge at one hipbone, and patted it in completion. Dick reached over to the wheelchair, picked up Barbara's robe and handed it to her. 

"Yes," he replied tersely.

"Has `he' seen it yet?" Babs probed. She held the robe in her lap, postponing putting it on as she waited for Dick's answer.

Dick turned up the lights in the bathroom and blew out the candles. He bent to flip the drain switch in the tub and swung   
around to sit on the edge beside Babs. He looked into her clear green gaze and answered.

"Do you think I'm going to volunteer this information to Bruce? Are you insane? If by some stroke of fate I become gravely wounded in action in some way that necessitates the removal of my pants, then I'm busted, Babs. Until then, only you and I and the Titans know about it." Dick sighed and ran his fingers through his damp hair. "C'mon, get into that robe before you get chilled." He grabbed a dry towel and rubbed her hair with it, then did the same to himself.

Barbara slipped into her robe. Transferred herself to her wheelchair, she rolled up to the vanity. While combing out her hair, she watched Dick's reflection in the mirror as he dressed. He donned a pair of black sweatpants and a white undershirt. He sat to pull on a pair of white athletic socks, then pulled a flannel shirt out of his gear bag and put that on, too, but left unbuttoned. He looked ready for hard-core loafing.

Dick looked up from where he was packing his Nightwing gear away in the bag. His face burst into grins when he saw Babs smiling at him in the mirror's reflection. "I hope that smile means you're hatching some devious plot to lure me into your bedroom and keep me there for several happy years."

Babs wheeled around to face him. "In your dreams, Grayson," she teased, holding her hands out to him. Dick slid to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his, drawing her forward for a kiss.

"Yes," he whispered against her parted lips. "Almost every night you're in my dreams..." They kissed again,pulling each other as close as her hardware would allow, which was okay — it was something they were working around.

"Mmm, you know what I'd really like right now, what I'd really like to do, Dick?" Babs cooed.

"I-I-I-I could guess, but whatever it is, I'll be a happy participant!" he grinned with enthusiasm.

Babs placed her hands lovingly on either side of Dick's smiling face, brushing his cheeks lightly with her thumbs. Could she be this lucky, she wondered? And why in the world had she been so hesitant about drinking in the love and acceptance he offered her from a seemingly bottomless well of devotion.

"I. Want. Popcorn," she confessed to his adorable, anticipating face. "With parmesan cheese on it."

"But won't that get the bed all crumbly, Babs?"

"No bed, Short Pants." She announced.

"Awww, Baaaabs..." Dick whined theatrically.

"You. Go pull out the futon, get lots of pillows, a blanket...we're going to have popcorn and watch Russell Crowe." She smacked him a kiss on the forehead and shoved him back so she could maneuver. "I'm going to get into my PJ's!"

Dick pouted, but he let her go. "What's wrong with what you're wearing now?" he asked, about the bathrobe.

"I'm naked underneath this..." she started, realizing it was the wrong thing to say.

"And? What's wrong with what you're wearing?" he repeated puckishly.

"It's not very warm and snuggly," she explained.

"I'm warm and snuggly, wrap up in me, Babs. You go put on all kinds of layers of stuff and it'll be like trying to break your security codes again." He pouted well.

Babs smiled over her shoulder at him as she rolled through the doorway. "You'll have to take what you get, former Boy Wonder."

As Dick finished straightening out the bathroom, he thought, 'Don't I always, love?'  


* * *

  
Dick extended the queen-sized futon, spread a sheet over it, scattered throw pillows and bed pillows across it, to make "...a regular little love nest!" he spoke, under his breath.

"What was that, Dick?" asked Babs, wheeling up behind him with the popcorn, a wine bottle and glasses in her lap.

"Uh, I was wondering which DVD you'd like *best* Babs, `Scream III' or `Gladiator,' because I haven't seen Scream III yet, and thought you might like..." he attempted, when she cut him off at the pass.

"I might like Russell Crowe in a skirt, Dick. That's what I want to watch, Russell Crowe, sweaty, bloody, burly..."

"...And wearing a skirt. You have strange taste in men, Babs." Dick grumbled, loading the evening's male competition into the DVD player.

"Hey, skirt or spandex, makes no difference to me, *Short Pants*." Her remark caught him short-pants down.

"Arrgh! Got me! *Cough-cough*..." Dick's hands went to his chest as if shot, and he fell "dying" onto the futon.

Babs put her lapful of items on the lamp table beside the pulled-out sofa-bed. Dick revived and scooped her up out of her chair and sat her on the futon. He rolled her chair just out of the way, but still accessible to her if she wanted it.

"Ooh. Nice red, Red!" Dick cheered. "Hungarian Bull's Blood, my favorite wine. I didn't see *this* when I peeked around. Dick sat on the edge of the futon and opened the bottle. He poured two glasses and held one out to Babs, who was arranging the pillows and getting comfy on the futon. "Toast?" he prompted.

"No, popcorn!" Babs joked. They touched glasses. "Here's to smoothing out our wrinkles." Babs toasted.

"Well said, love." Dick replied. They linked arms and sipped, watching each other with smiling eyes.

"Yumm, this is good. Ready for Russell?" Babs asked.

Dick turned on the movie and they sat back to watch. They munched popcorn, drank the potent red wine, and spatted about the lead actor.

"What is the *big deal* about this guy? Did Russell Crowe just give you the best massage of your life? Huh, tell me that, Babs!" Dick needled her, blatantly fishing for a compliment.

"No, and neither did you, former Boy Wonder, but you're definitely in the top three — and stop pouting, you big baby!" Babs chided him. 

The Gladiator actor appeared onscreen again. Dick threw popcorn at the screen, Babs threw popcorn down Dick's shirt. Dick poured wine down Barbara's shirt, then picked open the only closed button on her pajama top and dove to lick up the drops that were cascading down her tummy. Both wine glasses were quickly set aside, as was the big popcorn bowl. Clothing became optional as hands and lips and tongues and teeth roamed at will, bringing each other to another powerful, joyful climax. Without "actually" having sex. Again.

While Dick dozed off on the futon, Babs moved the DVD back to the point where it had been...interrupted, and continued to watch. A faint beeping sounded, and Babs pulled her laptop out from under the futon's frame — one of several portable computers stationed around Oracle's lair for easy-and-quick access to whoever was calling.

Babs opened the laptop and keyed in a security string. `Hmm, *his* frequency,' she observed. She spoke low, trying not to wake her slumbering companion. "I take it you've read the files, Batman." Oracle asked the image that appeared onscreen.

"Good work, Oracle. Wayne Enterprises security has been notified, and the mole is being picked up as we speak. It's doubtful he can tell us much, but the intermediary he reports to in New Delhi probably can. It's looking like all roads lead to Ra's. Have you dispatched an operative?" Batman asked.

"Affirmative. Black Canary has been in the air for almost two hours now. If you move out now, you can intercept her at the airport in New Delhi."

"I was thinking maybe Nightwing..." Batman began.

"He's busy. Big case. BC will get the job done, Batman." Oracle interjected.

"And where *is* Nightwing? He hasn't responded to my calls on any channels. Where did he go after running into Canary at WayneTech?"

`Rats, he finds everything out,' she thought.

"Babs? You watching the mov... uh-oh." Dick peeped out from behind Babs' back where he'd been snoozing, to see the Batman's image on the small screen. He dropped from view and pulled a blanket over his head.

"Sooo, actually, as you can see, he's here. We were watching a movie on DVD..." she started to say.

"You mean *you* were watching a movie and he was watching the insides of his eyelids. I'm familiar with the concept," Batman dryly remarked. "Dick, can you keep one eye on Gotham while I'm out of the country again?" he called out.

Dick's smiling face emerged from under the blanket; he propped himself up on one arm, the other draped naturally around Barbara's waist as he looked over her shoulder, shielding most of his unclothed form behind her. "You're covered, Kimosabe. Better get a shopping list from Alfred if you're going to India, he's going to want everything from tea to spices. And you two kids have lots of fun," he quipped, then added more seriously, "...but watch your ass with Ra's, Bruce. Call if you need anything."

Batman signed off, and Babs closed the laptop and slid it back under the futon frame. Dick's arms stole around her and pulled her the rest of the way down on the soft, pillow-like mattress. "Of course, BC may be watching his ass for him, in more ways than one," he grinned, planting tiny kisses on her neck and shoulders.

"Dick, the movie..." Babs protested. Her shirt came off again, and his talented mouth found every sensitive place on her upper body. Babs powered the television and DVD off with the remote, which was quickly dropped to the floor.

They rolled over until Babs was lying over Dick, her hands tangled in his dark hair. Breaking from an airless kiss, she mentioned, "Dick, Dinah knows about it." She kissed her way along his jawline to his ear and tongued it softly.

Dick gave a slight shudder from the tickle of her attention to his ear. "Knows about what?" His hands slid down her back, enjoying the slide of her satiny skin.

"The tattoo, *Booty-Man*. I mean she knows, but she doesn't *know* she knows. Lian told her `Unca Nightwing gots a Batman on his booty and now he's Booty-Man.' We couldn't figure out what she meant. Dinah said Roy whisked the kid away without explaining anything. Of course, now it makes sense to me, but what if Dinah mentions your ass to Batman, huh, Dicky?" Her sharp teeth found his earlobe, and he hissed and shuddered beneath her.

"B-babs...that — oh, that feels soooo good — I-I don't think we should be talking about the Bat...oh god oh god oh...oh, and my ass...while we're...ohhhhhyeeahhhhh..."

Dick rolled them over again without breaking her contact with his ear. The second Babs let go of him, Dick dove for her mouth with his, his hands moving everywhere. When their kiss broke, his mouth followed the trail his hands had taken, and for the third time that night, Babs briefly thought of bicycles.

* * *

  
Epilogue.  


  
"Grayson you're nuts," Babs griped just before shoving her toothbrush into her mouth.

Dick stood drowsily brushing his teeth. He gave her a foamy smile, then rinsed his mouth and brush. Babs laughed and finished brushing her own teeth.

"Probably. I just can't go to bed with popcorn in my mouth. Must be a circus-throwback-subliminal-thingie," he postulated. 

In a few minutes, they were snuggling down into the soft futon, among all those downy pillows, under an extra blanket. Lying face to face, woven to each other by their limbs, Dick and Babs drifted off into a dream that had been a long time coming.

* * *

  
- Fin


End file.
